A love like breathing
by Pancake Pet
Summary: Our favorite couple meets for the first time in the 21st century! PWP and Slash-I just want to say that right now, so no one gets their eyes burned. Not your ship? You can drown, if I care.


**Author:** Pancake Pet (that's me! *wink*) **  
>Pairing(s):<strong> Arthur\Merlin  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17/MA  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Blah, blah, blah—no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
><strong>Warning(s):<strong> SWEARING and SLASH. That means sex between two guys.

**Word Count: **3,934  
><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Gosh, I've so effing busy that all my other projects, I can unfortunately say, don't hold my attention anymore~ WAAH! D: So because I can never stop loving Arthur\Merlin, and because I can't stop writing porn... WAH-LAH! I give you my best attempt at the delicate balance of romance and sentiment, alongside with passion and intensity. Enjoy~ Oh, and don't forget to review! :D I will write ANY story idea you guys give me—so long as it's nothing disgusting... Just make sure to chose a series that I know, or else you will get to read a trainwreck of an out-of-character story. ;) CHEERS!

~Pan

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><p>A harsh growl rumbled low and menacing in Arthur's chest, as he roughly shoved Merlin into the sturdy wall behind him. Their lips locking immediately, as the two young men attempted to absorb each other's very essence out via lip-contact.<p>

Their mouths rubbing and chapping desperately together; wet and slippery from all the kissing they had done on the train ride, as the blonde maneuvered them through his dark, cluttered apartment.

Tongues clashed and battled, both fighting a needless war for dominance over the kiss; but, it was not like it mattered anyways, as Arthur, no doubt, knew what he wanted from this experience and took charge where ever Merlin faltered.

Pushing his tongue passed Merlin's thoroughly abused lips and into his warm, inviting mouth for what felt like the two hundredth time that night; the blonde made it his mission to map out the unexplored cavern.

Merlin's teeth, tongue, the roof of his mouth, hell, even his gums—nothing was left untouched by the time Arthur was through, and between the erotic caress of the blonde's experience tongue, to the lack of oxygen from kissing so long, Merlin wasn't sure if he could ever get his head to stop spinning.

Sensing his soon-to-be lover's dizziness, Arthur backed off long enough to continue their long forgotten trek towards his bedroom; call him a romantic all you want, but Arthur Pendragon was not about to fuck this kid senseless over his expensive granite countertops—though, it was beginning to sound like a good idea, the longer it took them to stumble to their desired location.

Feeling Merlin's blunt nails dig painfully into his scalp, the blonde let out a harsh growl-like moan before catching those hands between one of his own. "You're going to pull my fuckin' hair out." He slurs, his speech—and his mind—still very much impaired by expensive alcohol and unabashed lust, as he lurches forward to nip and suckle on the pale, unguarded neck that was bared for him.

Merlin groaned hoarsely, not expecting the wave of pleasure that spikes up his spine at the feel of Arthur's mouth. _Oh, god! His mouth…_He chokes out another gasp at the thought of where that mouth could be put to better use—but, before he could even voice that thought with the same brash vulgarity that got them in this heated situation, in the first place, he feels Arthur's strong hips being roughly pressed against his own.

"Ungh! Aah!" He groans, falling apart at the sensation of their clothed cocks thrusting against each other through the harsh, restricting fabric of their trousers. Cursing every god he could think of, the ravenette felt himself being backed against another, sturdy wall.

Fuck it—fuck _all _that complaining about not having his first time on the bed—if Arthur wanted to take him against the wall, so be it; he just wanted to cum already!

Glaring at Arthur with every defiant bone in his body, Merlin squirmed to get his hands free. "L-Let go—" He weakly demands, as he grinds his hips back, just as rough in an attempt to keep up their newly established pace; fast, rough, hard—now, now, now… _get me off, get me off. NOW!_

"I want to touch you." There's not a hint of uncertainty in his statement, just a torrid of want so strong, it threatens to swallow up the shy, nerdy ravenette Arthur had met just the other day…

Arthur took in those smoldering cerulean eyes that were filled with such passionate emotions—he was so unguarded and so intense. Those pretty eyes that had caught his attention on the train not long ago were burning at him; _for him_, and it was enough to make him lunge forward to assault the ravenette's mouth and neck once more, though this time, he was focused on leaving his mark.

Using the same kind of knee-jerk reaction that got people killed, Arthur used his lips, teeth, and an ample amount of tongue to feverishly tease and molest the smooth, pale column of flesh that was Merlin's neck, before clamping down to suck on the skin until he left an angry, reddish-purple bruise that would definitely be noticed…not that he cared much, anyway.

Smirking when Merlin arched and writhed between his body and the wall; Arthur decided to draw more of those erotic noises from his lover. He scraped his teeth slow and deliberately along the boy's jugular; relishing not only in the sounds of Merlin crying out in a bizarre mixture of penetrating desire and pure agony, but also the angry red streaks his pearly-whites left behind.

"Ahh—Arthur!" The young man mewled, while snaking his hands into blonde hair, once more—how he got free was beyond the blonde at this point, as he was too enraptured by Merlin's vocalizations. "S-stop fucking around…" He heard the ravenette gruff out, and before Arthur knew what was happening, he found himself being shoved back roughly.

Stumbling back like a drunken sidewinder, the blonde was caught like a deer in headlights when Merlin fixed him with a hard-edged, lustful scowl. "Bedroom—Now." The ravenette demands; almost completely breathless, as he struggles in vain to get his legs working again.

At any other time, with any other person, Arthur would've laughed at their eagerness; clowned about how people were always so antsy to get into bed with him, but with Merlin—the unpredictable enthusiasm got him harder than a rock.

"Come 'ere…" He says, finally finding his voice again, as he roughly secures his hands around the ravenette's waist, and hastily drags them the rest of the way towards the room.

When they finally stumble into the boudoir, there is no room to joke, no time to admire the décor—that could wait for tomorrow, when Merlin was scooping his clothes and dignity off the floor, as he raced to make it back to the train station—now was the time to act on their carnal desire; time for Arthur to make good on that promise to make Merlin cum so hard, he wouldn't be able to remember his name.

Growling like a wild animal, the blonde crowds Merlin's space, forcing him back onto the soft, large bed that seemed to sudden appear behind him. "Oof!" The ravenette exclaims, albeit rather comically for the moment, as he falls back onto the indulgent, imported linens.

"What…no…warning?" He pants sounding so…so—unintentionally sexy, as he reaches up to latch his talons into Arthur's skin—hair—anything he can get a hold of.

The blonde ignores his prattle and swats his hands away, in favor of just hovering over Merlin's breathless form. His pupils were dilated with lust, blotting out the blue of his irises with their enormous size, his breathing ragged and harsh, his jaw slack and his overall aura dripping with arousal—the sight alone could have been enough to undo any other; man or woman, and it took all of Arthur's self-control to keep from ruining his reputation—and his favorite pair of Levi's.

"Damn it, _Mer_lin…" He swears a few more times, as he begins to divest the both of them of all their clothing.

They don't talk again until both of their outfits are splayed out all over the floor; the only sounds that occupied the air during that time was their heavy breathing, swearing, and the occasional moan—and in retrospect, when this moment was the talk of future social functions, they would tell everyone that they were just too caught up in the moment to have it ruined by a rude observation about Merlin's bony… well, e_verything_! Or one or another potentially mood-killing joke about the meticulous grooming that must have went into keeping Arthur's nether regions so, well—you get the idea...

"Just—ugh—_fuck_…!"Merlin chokes on his own demands, as he is overcome by the onslaught of sensations. There's pleasure familiar, yet, so passionate coming from Arthur's rough, calloused hands on his throbbing member; stroking him with reckless abandon until he arched and moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors—hell, probably everyone in the general area. And then there's the pain and discomfort from feeling those same fingers being driven and twisted in his virgin body.

"Oh…Ahh!" Merlin gasps, making it known to his lover that it hurts. That it feels like he's being split into two halves. Arthur understands this wordless communication and tries his best to slow his efforts; despite his own pressing need to just get it over with.

Merlin trembled almost violently, lost in the feel of being continually washed over with such strong—well—_feelings_, sensations, emotions; the whole lot of it. And it takes a few moments of fighting through the blissful aching, before the ravenette is finally forcing himself to unwind—because, well; from what he's heard from the boys in Secondary School, sex wasn't supposed to be all tense and uncomfortable.

But, then again, a bunch of nerdy heterosexual teenagers, whom of which were definitely virgins themselves, probably weren't a reliable source for information.

"_Merlin… Relax."_

Or atleast, that's what Merlin thought he heard. He wasn't exactly sure if he would even being able to understand—let alone _hear_ Arthur if he _did_ say something, anyway.

"Fuck. Merlin—you don't know how much I want you, right now." Arthur growls cutting into his lover's thoughts, as he thrusts and scissors his fingers against Merlin's thoroughly stimulated prostate. "All you have to do—is ask for it, _Mer_lin. I'll give you whatever you need." His lust darkened blue eyes are fixed on the ravenette's writhing, panting form, now, and he doesn't think he could look away if he wanted to.

Stifling a particularly shrill moan, Merlin flushed a darker shade of cerise—the way Arthur was looking at him, those fucking _growls. _Freezing up for just a second, the young man gazed up and into those perfect, sapphire orbs; they're filled with the obvious emotions like lust and triumph, but—there's something else…that same _something _that made quiet, mild-mannered Merlin throw caution to the wind, and coax his fellow passenger off the train and into the nearest dinner for some serious _one-on-one, _just the other day.

It was love, admiration—vulnerability, and it was something that no one else got to see. And that alone was enough to peel away any reins of doubt. "Take me, damn it!" He all but howls, as he's reaching between them to capture Arthur's wrists; what he was going to do with them, he didn't know, but if the blonde continued to finger-fuck him, he was going to lose his mind.

The next thing they knew, Arthur was thrusting into Merlin, not stopping until he was fully encased in the slighter male's willing body. They were both gasping—"_Oh…!_"—at the abruptness of it all, and from there, things began to corkscrew out of control.

And if Arthur had even the slightest thought of being slow and gentle, (because, of course he knew this was Merlin's first time, and all) it probably got discarded along with his ability to verbalize. They went from 0 to 60 real quick, and before Arthur could stop himself, he was relentlessly driving himself in and out of Merlin's narrow body.

_So tight… so warm…_ And there's nothing stopping him from thrusting furiously into the ravenette. Fucking him rough, filling him completely, sullying his innocence before anyone else could come to their senses and realize just how good of a catch Merlin really was; Arthur's grumbling possessively in the back of his mind, and pitching forward to capture his paramour's lips again.

Tongues swirled and twisted against one another, and Arthur's once-hidden moans are vibrating between their joined mouths and down Merlin's throat. And, while, yes, their kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, that didn't entirely matter to them, not now. Because, the feeling of being one was just so intoxicating; it was like a drug so ever potent in its ability to make you euphoric,that there was definitely no chance of shaking this addiction.

Merlin braced one of his hands on the headboard, as wrapped his legs around Arthur's waist. "God—Fuck—_Arthur_…"He groans, and Arthur's panting his agreement; too afraid that if he starts to speak he'll say something stupid—like, telling the ravenette that he's beautiful, or how he wants to kiss him breathless, not because he has a wonderful mouth (he does, though, it's all pretty and pink; and the cause for maybe of Arthur's fantasies) but, because he wanted to steal every last breath that the ravenette had.

There's a funny story that goes along with that desire, actually. You see; each time he saw Merlin on the train, their eyes would always meet, and his breath would be stolen. Just a single look had Arthur Pendragon speechless… Even then; he knew something there was something extraordinary about the ravenette.

He didn't know how right he was. Of course, there was something different, distinct, about Merlin—there always has been. Back in the day of curses and dragons, fairytales and the kingdom of Avalon; this same bony, shaggy-haired young man, who was both annoying and endearing; who was an immense relief to be around and a heavy burden, (because he was just so damned naïve and full of cryptic wisdom that was hardly ever useful to anyone) was almost exactly the same—just that he was a lot more magical, and didn't take as long to become Arthur's.

In that time, for as complicated as things were, they were just so simple. Destiny had brought them together—kept Merlin for letting Arthur get his for acting such like such a prat. Though, ultimately, it was Morgana's meddling and a strong, miss-labeled aphrodisiac that _then_-Gaius had instructed him not to drink at all cost, (he of course, didn't drink it. But, _then_-Arthur did) that had them in bed together.

Even now, as the blonde massaged his lover's alabaster thighs, and hooked his lithe legs over the bend of his arms, his could feel hundreds of years of history between the two of them. It's so heady and intoxicating, to feel like he's inside Merlin's mind as well as his body; as he sifts through the almost vivid memories that he was sure belonged to him as well.

As the two of them, they defeated many foes—wizards, armies, and a fucking _dragon_! They had raised each other's spirits when times were hard. They took jabs at one other; and if one of them got offended—no worries, there would be passionate kissing and all night to make up. They argued, a lot, too; because Arthur was a know-it-all prick and Merlin was defiant and always second-guessing him. They kept secrets, for one; Merlin never told Arthur he could do magic, and Arthur never told Merlin that he fell hard for him the first day they met.

Engulfed in a torrent of passion, Arthur picked up his pace and grunted out unintelligible phrases. Meanwhile, Merlin was beside himself with pleasure. Saliva is trailing from the corner of his mouth as he moans and chokes, and chants Arthur's name over and over again, his hands are tensed, his knuckles white, and his fingers are twitching as he twines them in the thick, sweat stained duvet beneath them. His pretty eyes (which look so much darker and mysterious than usual) are on the verge of rolling out of his head, as he tries so hard—so very hard—to keep from looking away from fair-haired man that's driving him to his brink with his powerful thrusts, and his grunts, and his—his everything!

In his right mind, Merlin would never admit aloud that he's been fantasizing about Arthur just as much as he him, after the first day met in the 21st century, nor would he admit that he's probably going to cry when he gets up in the morning and races for his train.

Why not? Because, he knows that information this big, this heavy, would make Arthur an even bigger pain in the ass than before. But, even so, he knows that he will tell the blonde, and that he will put up with his companion's smug smirk and his pretentious attitude—hell, he'll put up with all Arthur's teasing about how bad he's got it.

Because, really, Merlin knows that as much as he pretends to hate it—he couldn't care less about the teasing… in fact, he likes it, because as long as Arthur teases him, he knows that the blonde feels the exact same way about him. Just like before—when the blonde was the prince of Avalon and when he was an amazing wizard—all the jokes that were exchanged between them were really to blow off the steam and anxiety onset by the copious amounts of energy they had whenever they weren't in Arthur's bed, (on or under the sheets… it was optional really.) wrestling and squirming and trying to get the other off as fast as possible, so that they could hurry onto their obligations.

As the thought of _King _Arthur and his previous-self getting up to naughty things on the blonde's throne—he was completely naked aside from a pretty, ceremonial robe and Arthur's crown on his head, and riding the man wildly, moaning loud and fiercely, not caring if anyone heard him—Merlin groaned, and released his grips on the cover to make a grab for his flagging erection.

Arthur, though strung out on ecstasy, noticed hand go in-between them; and having shared the same memory, growls possessively and swats the ravenette's hand out of the way, so that he could fist his cock instead. There was absolutely no rhythm at all, and the angle is killing his wrist; but it's worth it to see Merlin writhe, hiss, and do everything that Morgana's erotic-romance books go on about.

The ravenette can only take so much of this sensory overload—the memories, the feel of Arthur's cock sliding in and out of his body at a hammering pace, the ravenous emotions that his former self held for Arthur. The thought that this man was _his_ before he even met him had Merlin arching his back and climaxing.

Thick robes of cum dribbled from his pulsating member, and spilled between his and Arthur's stomach, as he's letting out a strangled cry, and let himself be drained. If he wasn't so goddamned sleepy and sated, and without a care in the whole world; he might have been disgusted when it quickly cooled on his stomach.

Moaning hoarsely, as hypersensitivity settled over his body, he looked up lovely into Arthur's eyes. Having been granted release at long last, he was finally able to focus. Azure eyes sparkled down at him with lust and age-old affection, and Merlin could feel a pacifying warmth that seemed not to entirely belong to him, seeping into his bones and settle there like a heavy cement.

Arthur seemed to have gotten that very feeling, because soon he was choking on a moan, as his orgasm washed over him like an enormous wave.

And, while the blonde would never admit it aloud—atleast, not yet—for him, it was one of those heart-stopping orgasms that he will be talking about for years succeeding.

The wrenching, emptying vibrations that pulsed throughout his whole body were so powerful that his knees are trembling and his spine is tingling _So. __Fucking._ _Good! _And he's pushing up and up, fast and deep, as if he wants to bury himself in Merlin's body and never leave.

_This_. This must be what it feels like to be loved so unconditionally. Being able to demand, demand, demand everything of Merlin and to get it just as he wished; being able to take, take, take it all without worrying that he was going to run ravenette ragged and out of his life. On the flipside, he was robbed of his affection and his time, and whatever else, because love is a give-and-take kind of thing, and while Arthur's a prat, and a hoarder, and doesn't play well with others, he can't think of any better way to have it.

More importantly, he can't think of a life without Merlin. Without his trust, his annoying smirk, his skin that bruises like a banana; and breakouts in Goosebumps whenever he licks and nips at it, his advice and his smile, and so many other things that he can't even begin to list. Not even with all the time in the world, and a handful of secretaries. But, it's not like he would try, anyways, because sitting around _thinking_ about Merlin instead of just _being_ with him and his terrible sense of fashion and his sarcasm, _is a fucking waste of time_.

Rocking his hips until he was completely spent, Arthur collapsed under the weight of their love for each other. God, if this is what all reunions are like… mind-blowing and exhausting, and possibility the best thing _**ever**_? Shit, if he wasn't already so afraid to let Merlin go—for fear that he'll leave him again—he would send him off for another lifetime, just so he could re-experience these feelings.

Arthur doesn't know when he fell asleep, and is dreading that he did, because that means that, when he woke up in the morning, Merlin will be gone, and he wouldn't have told him that he loved—**_loves_** him, but at the same time—he can't be too harsh on himself. Merlin's comfortable; his skin's soft and he's warm, and it was only a matter of time before he was lulled into a deep sleep.

Merlin, on the other hand, was up all night, as he stared—just stared—dumbfounded at his amazing luck. On his very first try, he had managed to find his soul mate. Arthur Pendragon; a tall, muscular, blonde-haired, blue eyed, rich kid, with the blood of Avalon's royals coursing through his veins… Crazy good luck he has, huh?

Perhaps, all those years of studying and taking care of his mother, instead of partying and whatnot have finally paid off?

Smiling when Arthur snuggled into his chest with the most blissful look on his face, the ravenette felt his own lids getting heavy. _Finally,_ he thought, looking up at the window. Even though the curtains were drawn, he could still, vaguely make out the early-morning sky.

In just a half-hour, he'd have to leave again—back to the train station and back to mundane, British countryside to visit his mother; Hunith, with her favorite box of muffins and a load of stories about how he spent this summer holiday staying out of trouble, for once.

As his eyelids fluttered shut, his smile stayed etched in his features. Maybe, after his graduated, he would take a job in the city—at one of Uther Pendragon's many companies, perhaps—so that he could keep an eye on Arthur. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid—yeah, because, Merlin doesn't want to grow old and silly with him; he just wants to make sure that he doesn't miss too much of this amazing sex.

…who was he kidding? He would have Arthur's children, if he could. He loved this man who was sleeping soundly on his scrawny chest and cutting off the circulation to his legs; and to stop loving him was to stop breathing.

And Merlin was pretty sure that, even if he stopped breathing; when he was reincarnated for the umpteenth time, he would still be madly in love with Arthur.

**End.**


End file.
